The Art of Cartography

Decisions

April 23, 1971

Peter Pettigrew sat at the edge of his seat his hand tracing the red lines drawn on the map spread out across his desk, imagining the roads and tracks he would be traveling tomorrow with excitement. All around him— posted on every wall— were maps, each with their own red lines of paths traveled. Layered upon the maps were flyers, set lists, posters of bands and concert tickets all marking the places he'd traveled the people he had seen. Atop those were photographs of Peter and his mum smiling and waving, dancing with one person or another. Relics of his memories pasted like wallpaper surrounded him.

A loud—BANG! drew Peter's attention away from his thoughts and he jumped, straining his ears to hear what was happening outside his bedroom door.

"Abigail! You can't keep dragging him around to the far reaches of the Earth! He needs an education. A sound education!" Peter's gran screeched. He could picture her in her apron pointing a wooden spoon at his mum, her graying curls escaping their bun.

"Mum, he is my son. I will do what I damned well please when it comes to his upbringing!" his mother shouted back. "And he is getting an education! In experiences!"

Another loud bang sounded and Peter flinched. He was fairly certain that bang was his gran slamming the tea kettle on the stove. "In experiences?" she countered, voice cracking with rage. "Experiences in what? Because I can guarantee he'll never land a career just because he experienced America by attending a drunken hippie festival!"

Peter's mum gave out a wail of frustration, "Woodstock was not just some drunken party, mum!"

"Oh, bloody hell it wasn't," was his gran's retort.

"Mum, it's my job! This is what I do!" his mum shouted in defense. "I'm sorry that my career choice gives you so little pride, but guess what? It keeps a roof over your head!"

The ire in his gran's voice rose even further and Peter shied back away from the wall. "You don't have to drag him with you!"

"Pete is my son! What do you expect me to do? Leave him?" she sounded appalled at the idea. Frankly, Peter did too. He loved going with his mum, even if his marks suffered because of it.

"He deserves a chance at leading a normal life!"

"Normal?" Peter heard a slap against the wall and he was sure his mum had thrown something across the room. "So that's what this is about! It has nothing to do with me pulling him from school for this trip. It's to do with September and Hogwarts!" Peter paled, knowing that his life was about to become a lot more complicated. "Liked I told you when we received the letter this morning: it'll be Pete's decision!"

"How can you be tempted to send him there after the way you were treated?" his gran questioned darkly.

A growl escaped Abigail's lips and Peter heard her at his door, "Mum, how can you be so stupid?" With that the argument ended.

Peter dove away from his desk and toward his bed, landing amongst the pillows and quickly closing his eyes before his mum opened the door. The door clicked open and closed and Peter heard his mother shuffling about the room before he felt her climb into the bed beside him.

"Pete," she spoke softly, smoothing his hair. "Don't pretend you didn't hear the whole blasted thing. I'm sure the Endsleys at the end of the street heard." Peter chuckled and rolled over, blinking up at her with watery blue eyes. "I'm sorry," she added.

"I got a letter from Hogwarts?" Peter questioned and his mother smiled. Peter often found himself in his mum's face, although she was much prettier. They had the same round cheeks, dotted with freckles and the same small blue eyes.

Abigail nodded. "I wasn't going to tell you until after your birthday. That way you wouldn't have to worry about making a decision while we are gone and you can just enjoy yourself."

"Gran doesn't want me to go?" his voice sounded small even to his own ears. He realized suddenly that he wanted to cry. Hogwarts would mean no more trips with his mum. No more maps. No more red lines. Hogwarts meant he'd be gone the majority of the year. Away from his mum. Away from everything he'd ever known.

"It's not that, sweets," she answered. Peter sat up in the bed and they bother leaned against the headboard, his mum draping an arm about his shoulders. "Your gran just wants to you have an easier go at life than I did." Shrugging, she smoothed down Peter's hair again. "It was hard for me to find a career as a witch. I didn't have the right—connections." Smiling at Peter, she kissed his head. "But you will, Pete. You won't be wholly inexperienced in the magical way of life like I was. You will do great there—if that's what you want."

Peter shook his head, tears welling in his eyes. He was immediately torn. Living in the magical world had always been his dream, but his gran being non-magic had prevented that. Peter only ever experienced glimpses of the magical way of life, when his mum's music magazine covered a wizarding band or they needed supplies from Diagon Alley. But the last thing he wanted was to not be with his mum. She was his best friend. His only friend. "I want to stay with you."

His mum laughed and kissed his head again. "Pete, either way. Come September you have to go to secondary school. Faithfully." She tugged at her own hair and a sadness crossed her face. "Your gran is right about you needing an education." As Peter start to protest, Abigail cut him off. "A real one. So, next year, no more skipping class because of my work. You'll either stay here with gran and go to school locally, or Hogwarts. Or—if you want to attend a Muggle public school, we can find one."

Tears started to spill down Peter's round cheeks and his mum hugged him tightly. "But—it—it isn't fair," he wailed.

"Peter," his mum cooed. "I will send you stories and photographs from every place I travel during the school year. And you can map out and plan a trip for every break. We will spend Christmas in Japan, if you like."

Peter attempted to stop crying, gazing at his mum with hopeful eyes. "Promise?"

"I promise," she swore. "So, now all you have to decide is whether you want to be a Muggle like gran and go to—I dunno, Smelting's, or something." Peter wrinkled his nose, remembering the bright orange knickerbockers the Smelting boys wore from a trip to South East England. "Or a wizard and attend Hogwarts like I did."

With an unsure nod, Peter hugged his mum. He didn't want things to change. He didn't want to leave home or his life, but he put on a brave face. "We'll be in London for a week. If I choose to be a wizard, can we go to Diagon Alley and get my things before we come home?"

"Of course, kid," his mum agreed. Then shrugging, she added, "Or a boater and a Smelting stick."

Peter laughed.

April 30, 1971

Attending the Camden Art Festival was not exactly how any young boy pictured spending his eleventh birthday. Peter Pettigrew found himself as an exception to that statement. Peter traipsed around after his mum from concert to concert ever since he could remember. In fact, his gran had a photograph of him slung on his mum's hip at the Lotus House in 1963 with the Kinks on the mantel. This festival, Peter had to admit his mum was quite right about: It was the highlight of his life thus far.

Peter stood with his mum outside of the Roadhouse, with hundreds of other waiting for the doors to open for the night's performance. His mind kept leaving him and trailing back to the conversation he had had with his mum a week ago and the argument between his mum and gran. He didn't know what to do. He wanted to go to Hogwarts. He wanted to be a wizard. He loved the magical world. But, Hogwarts meant going away. And living as a Muggle meant staying home and Peter knew his mum wouldn't hold true to her promise to make him attend school faithfully.

The sun had begun setting about half an hour earlier and Peter's mum reached down to smooth his thin, uncombed hair behind his ears, checking to see if the chill in the air was effecting him. "Mum, you already put a warming charm on me," he grumbled, despite enjoying the motherly attention.

Abigail Pettigrew giggled at her son, "Alright, Pete. Let's get a move on then. Tonight's the big event!" Grabbing his pudgy hand in hers, she tugged him toward the Roundhouse doors. Peter hurried alongside her, trying to hold his own in the masses of people twice his age filing into the entrance.

At little while later, lights flashed and dimmed as Deep Purple came out on the stage. The band began to play and Peter felt his heart stop in his chest. The opening song was Yodel and Peter's mother placed her face close to his, "They're opening with my favorite!" Peter laughed and rolled his eyes. It wasn't a long song and the excitement of the crowd thickened as the tune changed to heavy guitars and Peter closed his eyes as the sound of the organ joined in and the guitar began to fade. A chill ran through his spine and everything else faded away.

"Mum!" Peter screamed as Ian Gillan roared out the opening lines to Speed King. His mum's grinning face turned to him. "This is the best birthday ever!" Abigail rubbed his hair and her eyes alight.

Peter sang along with the crowd throughout Strange Kind of Woman, before his favorite song began. The opening of Child in Time made his heart stop again and he felt himself transported to another world. Peter felt the magic in his fingertips and spark through his hair and he felt suddenly braver than he ever had. He could do it. Change would be okay. "Mum," he called again and his mum smiled down at him, "I want to be wizard. I want to go to Hogwarts."